In the Sky of a Million Stars
by GhostInTheBAU
Summary: "It helps." The words startled him into silence; and the new voice had his head snapping up, eyes wide, frantically searching the shadows until they landed on a shaggy mop of messy blond hair and familiar blue eyes. "What?" he asked, wiping at the tears obscuring his vision, "What...what helps?" "The bullet," Tobias quickly answered, "It helps to quiet the voices." WARNINGS INSIDE.
1. Broken

**_Warnings : Graphic Depictions of Violence, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Mental Illness, Schizophrenia, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Dark Themes, Angst, Hurt/Comfort_**

 _ **Rating:** MATURE_

 _Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid_

 _I've had this bunny in my head for a while now, but it was put on hold when I began writing One Call Away. But after Chester Bennington's suicide, I started listening to Linkin Park's **One More Light** constantly, and this fic was born. I highly recommend giving it a listen. _

_Please take care of yourselves. If you or someone you know needs help, reach out. Don't wait until it gets to be too much. Call someone, talk to someone...or hell, shoot me a message if you want. I'd be more than happy to talk to you._

 _Always keep fighting._

 _National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255_

 _TW: Suicide, Self-Harm, Mental Illness_

* * *

Chapter One

Broken

.

 _ **Who cares if one more light goes out  
In the sky of a million stars?**_

 _ **It flickers, flickers.**_

.

Spencer sat in the dark...alone, in the middle of the living room floor, inside the apartment he shared with his lover—the only light illuminating the quiet space coming from the moon beams as they shone through the window. He was contemplating his next move, debating the possibilities that were suddenly laid out before him while weighing the pros and cons of each one.

He'd been doing that a lot lately—thinking about things he knew he probably shouldn't be thinking about. More so than usual, anyway. Plans and ideas ran through his mind constantly—reasons for him to do it, and ways for him to get the job done properly this time. A new, and rather easy option had very recently become available to him, and he was having an extremely difficult time ignoring its glaringly obvious presence. It was like the damn elephant in the room, tempting him, luring him, promising him something better than the shitty existence he was fumbling through now.

Really, though, most things would be preferable to his present reality.

The bar wasn't set exceptionally high, sad as it may be.

He heard a noise break the still silence—a mere huff of a sigh—and he flinched as he came out of his thoughts, glancing over toward the corner of the room—to the originator of the sound. The man was still there, of course, leaning up against the wall. He was someone Spencer knew all too well—or, _had_ known all too well, at one point in his life.

That was a more accurate assessment at this point.

He watched as the man stared back at him through the darkness and the silence.

Always staring, always analyzing, always _there._

Reid didn't know why the older man seemed to stay so fascinated with him. Surely the novelty had worn off by now; and there had to be more important things for someone like him to do with his time besides waste it watching Spencer Reid sit in the middle of his apartment in the dark.

Something obviously wasn't right with the whole situation, and Spencer knew it implicitly.

Unfortunately, that was also the problem.

He _knew._

He was still aware—still 'with it' enough mentally to know that everything in his life was completely fucked up. It was all lies, and tricks, and deceit. All upside down and inside out, off kilter and suffocating and confusing; and it had been like that for a while. Nothing had been okay since his mentor—the man who'd believed in him and brought him into the BAU, the man who'd introduced him to Aaron, the man who'd saved him and then _abandoned_ him—had come back into his life.

Since the man had come back to him and refused to leave him alone, no matter how much he begged for it.

Yeah, that had been the tipping point—the metaphorical slap in the face, if you will. That was the moment when Spencer had finally acknowledged the harsh, cruel reality of his condition.

He was crazy.

Certifiably insane.

Mad.

He'd completely lost his mind; and he knew it to be the truth because he was seeing a fucking ghost.

Jason Gideon had returned from the dead, and the man had come back just for him.

Movement from the occupied corner caught his attention once more, and he watched anxiously as Gideon stepped out from the shadows and into the pale light, moving closer to him in one fluid motion. The advance had him instantly tensing and flinching away, his hands clutching tightly to the item he held in his lap.

The heavy weight of it in his grasp helped to ground him.

"You're always so jumpy, Spencer."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked, a breathy and shrill laugh bubbling up and out of him. "Jumpy..." he repeated, mulling over the word, letting it sit on his tongue for a moment, "Hmm, I wonder why on earth I would be jumpy."

Jason chuckled lightly at that, crossing his arms over his chest as he crouched down in front of him. "You're holding on to dreams that aren't going to come true, son," he smiled, "You need to stop. Everything will be so much better for you if you just stop and let go."

"Let go of what?"

"Aaron," another voice answered from behind him, decidedly female.

He knew instantly who it was...he'd know that nasally tone anywhere.

The blonde circled the outskirts of the room, slinking along the wall, dipping in and out of the shadows like a predator, and Spencer's eyes traced her movements out of his periphery. He didn't know if he should completely pull his attention away from Gideon, though; he didn't know what would happen if he did. He always seemed to get much more nervous when there was more than one of them with him at a time.

"You need to let go of Aaron, for his own good," she continued, "And for my son's well being. Jack...Jack shouldn't have to be around someone like you, Dr. Reid. He doesn't need to be around someone as sick and delusional as you are. You know this; we've talked about it, haven't we?"

He slowly nodded his head. They had talked about it. In fact, they'd gone 'round and 'round on this subject multiple times.

"If you stay," she added, "All you'll be doing is endangering him. Is that really what you want? To hurt Jack? Or Aaron?"

His chest clenched and his stomach dropped at those words, a tiny whimper escaping his throat as a heavy mass of unease settled deep inside him.

He'd gotten to know Haley Hotchner quite well over the last few months. She was the most recent addition to his uninvited company—and it was getting rather crowded inside his head. Everyone kept vying for his attention...kept telling him what to do...kept showing him his future and the damage he would inevitably cause if he stayed with Aaron. Haley had opened his eyes to the danger he was putting Jack in just by being around him.

A mother knows, after all.

And he was like his mother, now.

He was just like her, and it was only a matter of time before Aaron got sick of caring for him and sent him away—just like he'd done to his own mom. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe he was destined to die in a mental health facility, locked up, out of sight and out of mind.

Out of _his_ mind.

There had to be a better way to fix everything.

His gaze met Gideon's again, the man's dark eyes boring into him—staring into his very soul—and he could feel his cheeks burning furiously at the intensity of the intimate look. His fingers nervously traced a well-worn path along the smooth contours of the weapon he held as he tried to calm his raging heart.

"Are you gonna use that pretty little thing, or are you just gonna caress it all night?" his mentor asked, cavalier, as though he were simply inquiring on the weather or what book he'd read recently, "I mean, there has to be a good reason Hotch left it out for you to find, right?"

Was there?

Aaron had left a while ago, mumbling quietly about going to the corner market for...something. Spencer couldn't remember what, exactly; he just knew Aaron had grabbed the car keys, placed a quick kiss to the top of his head, and then left without another word.

What if Hotch had left the gun out of the safe on purpose?

What if this was all part of Aaron's plan?

What if he wasn't supposed to be here when Aaron got back?

It was a possibility, he supposed.

Maybe.

Aaron had said he'd only be a few minutes, but they both knew that that was more than enough time for Spencer to do what needed to be done. The problem, though, was that Spencer had no idea exactly how long the man had actually been gone. Time, unfortunately, was no longer a linear progression for him. It wasn't clear, or clean, or easy. It was the opposite. It was upside down and inside out. Hours and minutes seemed to melt into one another, mixing together in a puddle on the floor, all jumbled up and confusing.

Messy and distraught.

Wibbly wobbly?

He sneered at the thought—the quirky little reference that popped into his mind making his heart ache. That was something the old Spencer would have joked about, but not this new, broken version that he was now. That other Spencer Reid no longer existed. He was nothing but a cheap imitation of him now...and not a very good one at that.

It was so sad.

"Maybe he _wanted_ you to find it," Jason calmly continued, bringing his mind back online, back to the matter at hand, "Perhaps he wanted you to _use_ it, Spencer."

Gideon emphasized the words, drilling them in, coaxing him closer to some kind of compliance.

It made a perfect kind of sense, really.

Or, well, it made as much sense as a dead man talking to him _could_ make, anyhow.

Aaron would never be so careless as to leave him alone in the apartment with a loaded gun. Not on purpose, and most certainly not after everything had gone to hell. Not after he'd told his lover his deepest, darkest fantasies—fantasies of death and absolution, of peace and rest, of quiet endings.

Definitely not after he'd started seeing ghosts and talking to himself...started listening to what the aberrations had to say and _believing_ them.

No, Aaron was smart. He wouldn't have left the gun out unless he'd had enough of it all—unless he was tired of dealing with all the fucking shit. The last year had been no walk in the park, Spencer knew that; it had been hell, pure and simple, and he knew he was making Aaron nervous, especially when he was around Jack.

God, he didn't want to end up doing something to hurt Jack; and the inevitability of that outcome had him choking back bile as a wave of nausea rocked through his core.

Jack always came first. Always. That was how it was supposed to be, and perhaps this was Aaron's way of protecting his son.

Maybe he'd left his gun out so Spencer would take care of the problem himself.

Maybe caring for him had become too much for Aaron, and the man really did want him gone...

. 

" _I don't want it!" he screamed, his voice lit with ire and high-pitched desperation._

 _Aaron stared him down, several pills held in the palm of his hand while he watched Reid warily, almost as though Spencer were a petulant child about to throw a temper tantrum._

 _Which, okay, valid point._

 _But still, the look had fire burning in his chest, bubbling up, fueling his growing anger. He didn't want to be medicated again, and he cursed Aaron for having the nerve to even suggest that he take the wretched pills. He didn't need them—he could be fine without them._

 _He knew he could._

 _As they stared at each other, though, he noticed how tired Aaron appeared...how wrung out and frayed the man seemed—raven hair jutting in all directions and dark circles under his once lively chocolate eyes. Those circles rivaled Reid's own, which in and of itself was an impressive feat considering the insomniac look was one of Spencer's trademark specialties._

 _Sadly, it was also understandable; neither one of them had been sleeping much lately._

" _Spencer, you need to take your meds."_

" _No," he frantically shook his head. He absolutely hated the way the pills made him feel—heavy and out of it, lethargic, numb._

High.

 _To be completely honest, he'd rather see the ghosts and hear the voices than feel the side effects. He couldn't let Hotch do this to him—he couldn't let him force the medication down his throat again._

 _No...not again._

" _I don't need it, Aaron. Really. See?" he held a hand up between the two of them, willing with all his might for it to stay still even as the tremors he was feeling visibly coursed through his body, "I'm fine. See? Fine...I'm, I'm f-fine. I'm just fine, completely fine—"_

" _Spencer," Hotch sighed, "You're really not. You know you're not fine, honey. Come on, now...don't do this, don't fight it. Just cooperate with me. Don't make me force you—"_

" _NO!" he screamed, cutting Aaron off and slapping his hand away, sending the menagerie of colorful pills flying to the floor and scattering, "Didn't you hear me?! It's not that difficult of a concept, Aaron! I said I don't fucking want it!"_

 _Before he knew what was happening he was slammed into the wall, and the impact was hard enough to momentarily knock the wind out of him, leaving him dazed. Then Aaron's body was against his, pinning him in place as one powerful arm draped securely across his shoulders while the other hand clutched at his jaw, holding his head still and forcing eye contact. He couldn't move, couldn't escape. He felt trapped, like a wild animal caught in a snare; and he clawed at his lover's arms in retaliation, thrashing against strong hands, desperate to get away, to get space, to run._

" _Spencer, you've gotta calm down."_

 _Aaron's voice was steady, firm, and unwavering; but Reid could see tears shining in his dark eyes as he continued to struggle against the man's iron hold. He knew he didn't really stand a chance, though; and that thought just made him feel even more panicked and helpless._

 _He was utterly powerless._

 _Pathetic._

 _Lost._

" _Aaron, don't—don't, don't make me. Please. Please, don't make me take them," he whimpered, all of the fight leaving his exhausted body as he slumped tiredly against the wall, "Please...I'll be better. I know I can be better. I can_ do _so much better. I promise. I'll—I'll ignore the voices! Okay? I can do that, right? If that's what you want, I can just ignore them..."_

" _Spencer..."_

" _No! Aaron, I can! I can do that. You believe me, right?" his eyes watered as he begged Aaron to have faith in him and his abilities, "You have to believe me...please. I...I can do better. I promise, Aaron. I promise you, I can do that...I can do better. Better...I'll...I'll be good for you...please..."_

" _Shhh, Spencer," Aaron pulled him into his chest, the man's grip still strong, yet tender at the same time._

 _Safe?_

 _Maybe he was safe here...in these beautiful arms._

 _He used to think he was safe._

" _Just calm down," Aaron's chest rumbled soothingly against his own as a hand ran through his hair, and his eyes moved to the floor, staring blankly at the pills still littering the ground at their feet, "Let's...let's just go to bed now. Come on, honey."_

 _He sniffled and gave a small nod of agreement, allowing Aaron to direct him to their room. Once there, he was gently helped into bed, and the covers were pulled up over him; then Aaron was gone, rummaging around somewhere—in the en suite bathroom from the sounds of it. Spencer didn't have the energy to investigate further, though; instead, he just closed his eyes and let the warmth of the blankets surround him. When Aaron returned, Spencer faintly remembered the mattress dipping behind him before he felt an all too familiar sensation—the slight prick of a needle in his upper arm. His breath hitched at the momentary sting, then he surrendered to it, curling in on himself as he waited for the drug to take effect._

 _Haldol._

 _Aaron always gave him the Haldol when he'd been exceptionally manic or hard to handle._

. 

Tears ran down his cheeks in hot streams as he thought about every horrible, awful thing he'd ever done or said to Aaron—all the vile names he'd called him and the punches he'd thrown—and his heart ached at the realization. He truly was nothing but a burden now, a monster, a danger. Things would be so much better for Aaron and Jack if he weren't there anymore...if he were just gone. They could have a real life again. A normal, happy life. Jack wouldn't have to stay at Jessica's whenever Spencer was having a bad day—like today.

Like yesterday.

Bad days were all too frequent now...too numerous for him to even count.

Too many.

Too much.

Much too much.

It was all just too fucking much!

"You need to use it before you end up doing something you'll regret."

His body tensed at the idea. "What...what do you mean?" he asked, hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer even though he already knew what it was.

He'd heard Jason say it enough times.

"You'll hurt him, Spencer. Or you'll hurt Jack. _Both,_ probably. It's really only a matter of time, dear boy," Gideon laughed, smiling thoughtfully at him, "Think about it, son...you're highly unstable. Unpredictable."

"I won't hurt them," he mumbled, biting anxiously on his lower lip.

"Tell me this then," Jason leaned in closer, so close Spencer could feel the man's hot breath on his face, "How many times did your mother hit you when you were a child? Hmm? How many times did she hurt you when she was delusional?"

"No..." he shook his head, tears continuing to burn his eyes, "I'd never hurt them like that. I wouldn't...I'd _never_ hurt Jack. Never."

"I'm sure that's exactly what Diana thought, too, wasn't it? She'd never hurt her _precious baby boy_..." Gideon smirked, and Reid flinched as a hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, "But you will. Think about it. If I told you to, you would. You'd hurt him. You'd _kill_ him. You'd do it, Spencer. You'll do anything I say. Anything at all."

"Nonononono...no, stop...just, just stop!" he jerked back and his hands flew up to his ears, covering them, trying his best to drown out the horrible voice, the lies, the deceit, "You're not here. You're not _real!_ I know you're not! You're not real...no no no no no..." His nails dug harshly into his scalp and he pulled violently on his hair, focusing on the pain the action caused. Pain was good. Pain was helpful. The more pain he felt, the less he could hear; and the less he could hear, the easier it was to pretend that he was okay. But he couldn't do that this time. He couldn't get Jason's sickening laugh out of his head. When he closed his eyes he still saw the man leering at him, still felt hot breath on his skin. "Just leave me alone!" he shrieked, bawling as he curled into a tight ball on the floor, "Please, please just leave me alone. Make it stop...make it all stop...please please please...no more...I can't take it anymore...just make it stop..."

"It helps."

The words startled him into silence; and the new voice had his head snapping up, eyes wide, frantically searching the shadows until they landed on a shaggy mop of messy blond hair. Familiar blue eyes stared back at him, and the man they belonged to smiled softly, knowingly. "What?" he asked, wiping at the tears obscuring his vision, "What...what helps?"

"The bullet," Tobias quickly answered, "It helps to quiet the voices."

Spencer looked back down to his lap, examining the newly cleaned Glock 17, swallowing thickly as Gideon's words echoed in his mind...

. 

" _If I told you to, you would. You'd hurt him. You'd_ kill _him. You'd do it, Spencer. You'll do anything I say. Anything at all."_

. 

As he listened, his eyes caught site of the long, dark scar marring the skin on the inside of his wrist and forearm. His fingers lightly traced the raised flesh, remembering exactly how good it had felt to slice his body open. He remembered the warm gush of blood as it flowed so easily down his arm, pooling at the tips of his fingers like a tidal wave of cascading relief. He remembered _why_ he'd done it; but he also remembered just how utterly devastated Aaron had looked that night when the man had walked in and found him bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

He didn't want to keep putting Aaron through that kind of torture; he deserved so much better than that...so much better than _him._

He didn't want Jack to see him like he was now, either—a broken shell, empty, cold...nothing more than an echo of who he once was.

Did that other person ever truly exist, or was it all just a trick? Just another delusion?

He especially didn't want to keep seeing and hearing things that weren't really there. He knew Gideon, Tobias, and Haley were just in his head—he really did—but they seemed so _real_ ; and it was beginning to become more and more difficult for him to differentiate the truth from all the lies.

Sometimes he even thought that Aaron and Jack might be the true hallucinations.

Sometimes he feared that he'd never left Georgia...that he was still back there...trapped inside that shack, cuffed to a chair in a cold and lonely cemetery while the smell of fish hearts and livers filled his nose and burned his eyes.

Those were the nights he was truly terrified, the nights when his nightmares became more of a reality to him than the truth.

He realized he was very, very sick and he shouldn't be listening to anything the dead manifestations surrounding him had to say, but they were making too much fucking sense to simply be ignored; and that was the precise reason he was sitting in the dark, clutching desperately to a gun his lover may or may not have meant to leave him access to.

Wasn't it?

Wasn't that the reason?

Yes.

Of course it was.

He didn't want to keep living like this—a burden to the man he loved and a danger to the boy who had become like a son to him. And the fact that his hallucinations were truly making sense to him didn't help matters any.

He didn't think he could live in a world that had taken his mind away from him and turned him into what he was now.

This would be better for everyone.

With the decision made, he took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back up to meet Gideon's heavy gaze. They shared a quiet moment together, staring at each other like they were in the throes of a heated game of chess, or perhaps a long-awaited goodbye; then Jason nodded his head approvingly and Spencer lifted the gun.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he placed the barrel against his temple and closed his eyes as the heavy metal cooled his skin.

The last thing he wanted to see before everything ended was Aaron, so he concentrated on the man's perfect face...beautiful and warm and kind. Chocolate eyes gazed lovingly back at him, and those dimples...those radiant dimples had Spencer smiling as one final tear rolled down his cheek.

.

 _ **Who cares when someone's time runs out  
If a moment is all we are?**_

 _ **Or quicker, quicker.**_

.


	2. Panic

Chapter Two

Panic

.

 _ **Should've stayed. Were there signs I ignored?  
Can I help you not to hurt anymore?  
**_  
.

Aaron walked slowly down the aisles of the neighborhood market, his eyes scanning the shelves in an exhausted and hazy sort of half daze. He'd come for a few specific items, necessities they couldn't do without through the night, but now that he was there he wanted to take his time—wanted to make the trip last a while. Spencer was safe inside their apartment, anything the younger man could possibly use to harm himself securely put away, out of his reach or locked up; and Aaron knew he'd be okay by himself for the time being.

He didn't want to go home, not yet.

It was selfish, he realized, but he needed some time to himself, away from the responsibility of caring for Reid. He couldn't help the tiny little part of him that wanted nothing more than to get back in his car and just start driving—to where, he had absolutely no fucking idea, and he didn't much care either. He just wanted to get away, wanted to escape the present circumstances he'd been dealt, if only for a little while. Just long enough to regain his bearings—and maybe get a decent night's sleep for the first time in weeks...or perhaps even months.

He could hardly think straight through the constant and heavy cloud of exhaustion weighing him down.

To be perfectly honest, he'd jumped at the chance to get out of the house for even a few precious minutes. The apartment was crushing—deeply suffocating—the air thick with tension and grief and fear. It was stifling to always have to be on guard, scared to death of the horrors the day could bring into his life at the drop of a dime, terrified of the evil that could be brought down on his loved ones at any given moment. He felt awful for even thinking it, and he knew he was an absolutely horrible person because of it, but sometimes he wished he'd never been thrust into the role of a caretaker to begin with.

He hadn't asked for the responsibility, and he didn't think he wanted it.

It's not that he didn't love Reid, though. He did. He truly did love him, but he didn't know if that love was enough to get them through this trial. It was intense, and it was definitely something he hadn't been physically or emotionally prepared for.

Of course, Spencer had voiced his concerns about his mental health when they'd first started dating—the moment they'd both realized their relationship was turning into something more serious in fact. It was something the genius had lived with and feared his entire life, so it made sense for him to be concerned about it; but at the time, Aaron had brushed off the younger man's worries, truly believing that it was a non issue. After all, Reid had already surpassed the usual age of onset for schizophrenia, and the likelihood of him developing the disease was dramatically decreased.

Spencer was in the clear.

He was good, and he was fine.

Until he wasn't.

Until the evening Aaron walked into their bedroom and found Spencer manic, talking heatedly to himself as he scratched violently at his arms. Everything had changed for them that night, as their lives crashed and burned in a blaze of fire around them, and Reid never returned to the Bureau...

.

 _When he arrived home after picking Jack up from Jessica's he found all the lights in the apartment off, which was odd, especially since he knew Reid was supposed to be there and the younger man vehemently hated the dark. Usually Spencer would have every light in the house turned on, and Aaron would have to walk through every room turning them all off while mumbling about how high the electricity bill was going to be._

 _The darkness and the eerie quiet that blanketed the place had him wondering if perhaps his lover had gone out for something; at least, that's what he thought until he looked down the hallway and saw a sliver of light shining out through the bottom of their closed bedroom door. Quickly and calmly he instructed Jack to stay in the living room, then proceeded to move down the hall, his heart picking up speed as he went. He didn't know why, but he found himself growing more and more anxious the closer he came to the end of the hall, a ball of nervous energy coiling deep in his stomach with every step he took. When he finally reached the door, he slowly opened it and peered into the bedroom._

 _What greeted him wasn't what he'd expected._

 _Spencer was there, pacing back and forth in front of their bed, his hair a wild mess and his hands wringing tightly together as he chewed viciously on his bottom lip, the skin cracked and bleeding. The room was in complete shambles—there were clothes falling out of the closet and strewn across the floor; the bedside lamp lay on it's side, the light bulb flickering on and off; and all the sheets and blankets were in a wadded up heap in the middle of the mattress. Reid didn't look at him when he entered, didn't even acknowledge his presence in the slightest; he just kept shifting around the room, mumbling unintelligibly to himself. Every few seconds his hands would shoot up and tap an unknown rhythm against his temple before scratching at the old track mark scars in the crook of his arm._

" _Spencer, what's going on?" Aaron asked, his throat closing off as the apprehension in his voice grew heavy in the air._

 _Instantly Spencer stopped moving and turned toward him, and that allowed Aaron to get a better look at him. The younger man had obviously been crying, his hazel eyes blood shot, red-rimmed and puffy as they frantically darted back and forth between Hotch and the door. Nervous. He looked extremely nervous...or skittish, like a trapped animal ready to claw his way to freedom. His skin was paler than usual, beads of sweat glistening off the sharp angles and contours of his face, the ghastly look illuminated by the low, flickering light from the lamp. It seemed to take a moment for Reid to fully recognize him, which did absolutely nothing to help calm Aaron's rising panic._

 _He knew something was dreadfully wrong._

" _I can't find them," Spencer almost sobbed, "I—I can't. I can't find them..."_

" _You can't find what, honey?"_

 _He watched as trembling hands came up to Reid's ears, nails digging into the skin, leaving angry red streaks in their wake._

" _Th-The, um...the—the v-voices," Reid whispered, "I can't find the voices..."_

 _Oh god._

 _No no no no...this couldn't be happening. Not after everything—not after all they'd been through._

" _Aaron," Spencer looked at him pleadingly, eyes shining, brimming with more tears that had yet to fall, "I—I need them to stop, Aaron. I really, really need them to stop, but they won't. Th-They won't—they won't fucking stop! Please...Aaron, please, will you just make them stop? Will you h-help me find them? Help me find them and make them stop..."_

 _Before he knew what he was doing, he was across the room and scooping Reid into his arms, pulling the hands away from his scratched and bleeding face. Spencer jerked back at the sudden movement, fists coming up to hit at Aaron's chest, struggling against him as he tried to free himself. And all the while, those honey brown eyes never stopped roaming over the room, searching for something Hotch obviously couldn't, and probably wouldn't, be able to see._

" _You have to find them!" Reid screeched, "Just—Just find them! Find them and make them stop! Please!"_

" _Baby, calm down," Aaron's voice broke, his heart racing, trying to pound its way out of his chest as he held tight to the squirming, panicking body in his grasp, "You've gotta talk to me, okay? You've gotta calm down and talk to me." He pulled away and caught Reid's gaze, "I wanna help you, Spencer, I do, but you need to tell me what's going on first."_

" _I...I can hear them, Aaron. Him..." Reid shyly murmured, bowing his head to hide behind the matted tangles of hair covering his face as his body went still in Hotch's arms, "He...he won't go away. I can't find him, but—but I know he's here. I know it's him."_

" _Who, Spencer? Who's here, Sweetheart?"_

" _It's...it's G-Gideon."_

 _Terror shot through his system then, like a bullet tearing through flesh, and he realized their lives were never going to be the same again._

. 

That day had been one of the very worst days of Aaron's life, but there had been many others since then that had rivaled it for the dubious honor. The bad days were beginning to outnumber the good ones, and it was breaking his heart to watch as the love of his life mentally deteriorated right before his eyes; and knowing that there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it was like twisting the knife in deeper—adding insult to fucking injury.

After that night, the night their whole world changed, it became rather common to receive worried phone calls from the neighbors about noises coming from their apartment. Sometimes Jack would even call him at the office, crying, saying that Spencer was talking to the voices again—that he was ranting and raving, and throwing things. Aaron could hear the fear in his son's voice every time he called; and every time, Aaron would drop whatever he was doing and race home as fast as possible, calling Jessica on the way. She'd meet him there, pick Jack up and take him for the night, for his own protection. He hated the idea of having to protect Jack from Spencer, but that had quickly become their reality. Frantic phone calls from his son were much too common now, and he knew he couldn't trust Reid alone with Jack any longer.

Spencer's meds were beginning to wane in their effectiveness as well, which didn't help matters any; and it also didn't help that the younger man resisted taking them almost on a daily basis. It was a struggle—a constant uphill battle, but it had to be done. Reid _needed_ his meds. They were the only way for him to function at all; otherwise, every part of him that was Dr. Spencer Reid would vanish, and Aaron couldn't cope whenever that happened. It was absolutely terrifying to see the light go out of those gorgeous hazel eyes, replaced by a dull brown devoid of anything resembling the brilliant and beautiful man he loved.

One of the only ways Aaron knew to get him to cooperate—besides just simply pinning him down and shoving the pills down his throat—was to offer the medication with apple juice. Sometimes that would work...when he was lucky. Reid said the aftertaste wasn't quite as bad if he took them with the juice, although he still complained about the side effects.

That's why he was at the store in the middle of the night to begin with.

Juice, milk...pop tarts—anything he thought Spencer might actually eat, because that was another problem. His appetite had dwindled significantly over the months, and he'd lost so much weight Aaron feared he was well on his way to dying from malnutrition. Thankfully he could get him to drink a couple cans of Ensure on most days, and that at least got some of the calories in him that he needed. It wasn't much, but when it came to Spencer, Aaron had learned early on to take what he could get and be thankful for small mercies.

Sighing, he grabbed a bottle of Pedialyte—again, another one of the few things he could actually get Reid to drink—and then moved to the register.

The cashier smiled brightly at him as he began unloading his basket onto the conveyor belt.

"How are you doing tonight, sir?" she cheerily asked.

It was a little too much enthusiasm for him, to be honest, but he tried not to grimace as he replied, "Fine. Thank you."

"It's a nice night out," she continued, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort as the beep of the scanner grew more and more grating on his nerves with each item she rung up.

He just gave her a tired and non-committal nod in answer. He hadn't taken much noticed to the weather...or anything else, really. He supposed it was a rather mild evening, though. The kind of evening he would have spent sitting outside on the balcony at home with Spencer, enjoying a nice glass of wine and looking up at the stars, admiring the constellations as Reid enthusiastically pointed each one out to him.

But that life was over. It no longer existed.

"Awww, do you have a sick little one at home?" she held up the Pedialyte with a sympathetic frown before placing it in the bag.

"Um, yeah," he mumbled. Sadly, he'd realized it was easier for him to pretend that Jack was sick rather than say out loud what was really going on. Every time he voiced the fact that something was wrong with Spencer, that he had schizophrenia, it felt like he was somehow betraying the other man's confidence. He still wanted to protect Reid's privacy, as silly as that notion was. By now, everyone knew what was going on. "You could say that."

Besides, it wasn't a complete lie; Reid _was_ younger—not exactly a 'little one', per se—but he was very, very sick...

.

 _Aaron walked into the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him, the temperature of the room plummeting to arctic depths as the air was sucked harshly out of his lungs. Spencer was sat crumpled on the linoleum, his back against the lower cabinets and a pool of red dripping from a large gash on the inside of his arm, layers of muscle and sinew grotesquely peeking through the steady scarlet trickle. The skin was cut perfectly down the center of his forearm, reaching all the way to his wrist as if it had been done with the utmost care; and the splattering of heavy, viscous liquid onto the floor was almost deafening to Aaron's ears._

 _The dense, metallic scent drifting to his nose made his stomach roil and heave._

 _"God, Spencer," he gasped, seemingly frozen in place where he stood before snapping into action a moment later._

 _He instantly flew to Reid's side, grabbing a dish towel and gripping Spencer's arm tight within his own hands as he fell to his knees, holding firm pressure to the gushing wound beneath his hold. It felt slippery and warm and wet and_ wrong.

 _So wrong._

 _The sensation of it was sickening._

 _A knife sat idly by, mocking him as it haphazardly lay on the floor next to Reid's leg, the steel blade covered in thick and drying blood._

 _Spencer's blood._

 _Spencer's blood was everywhere, surrounding them, soaking into his pants, warming his skin._

 _He grabbed the knife without even thinking and threw it across the room as he fought back another wave of overwhelming nausea, the weight of the situation crushing his chest as the metal of the blade clanked against one of the dining room chairs. "God, baby, why?" he asked through broken sobs and clenched teeth, unable to keep a scream from bubbling up in his panic, "Why the hell did you do this?!"_

 _At first, Spencer only gave him a blank expression in reply, his eyes empty and hollow, glazed over. He was losing too much blood. The towel had already been soaked through, and his skin was a ghostly pale, slick with sweat. Aaron could feel Spencer's rapid and thready pulse beating under his palm, pushing more and more life from his body with every pulse, and he knew he needed to call for help—Reid was either about to go into shock, or he was already there._

 _He kept as much pressure on the wound as he could while he used his free hand to pull his cell phone from his pocket; but before he had a chance to dial, he heard Spencer softly whispering to him, and he looked back up into hazel eyes now wet with falling tears._

 _"He...he told me to do it."_

 _"Who, Spencer? God...who—who told you to do this to yourself?"_

 _"The—The voices. Or...voice_. The _voice. Um, Gideon's voice. Gideon told me to do it." Reid closed his eyes and bowed his head, body rocking through silent sobs. "I'm so sorry, Aaron!" he cried, "But he's_ always _here! He's always with me, and watching me. And...and he said—he promised...he_ promised _me it would be better! It...it was suppose to be quiet now...if I just did what he said. If I did what he told me to, it would be so quiet. But it's not. It's still not quiet and he's still fucking here!" Reid's eyes grew wide and manic, his voice shrill as his other hand latched painfully onto Aaron's leg. "Please don't leave me alone with him!" he sobbed, "Please, Aaron...you can't! Don't leave me! Please don't—please don't leave me!"_

 _Aaron made an immediate decision right then and there to take a sabbatical from the FBI. There were much more important places for him to be—and much more important things for him to be doing. He needed to be right here, with Reid, watching over him and helping him heal; and making damn sure he never fucking did something like this to himself again._

 _He had to save his family; there was no other option._

 _"Spencer, baby, I'm—" fear, anger and dread all mixed together in a tight-knit ball, strangling his words, and he had to swallow it down before he could continue, "I promise I'm not going anywhere, honey, and I won't leave you alone. I'm right here with you, and I'm gonna make sure you're safe."_

 _"You—You won't leave me?" Spencer asked as he met Aaron's gaze._

" _No, I won't leave you."_

" _O-Okay," Reid gave him a quick nod, taking several deep breaths and blinking furiously, his body shaking, "You, you n-need to put everything away, though. Um, someplace—someplace that I can't get to it. You can't let me get to anything, Aaron." His breath hitched and his eyes darted to a spot on the far side of the room, to something Aaron knew only Spencer could see. "He'll try...um, he'll try to get me to do it again. I know he will," he paused, biting his lip and shifting his gaze to the floor, to all the red that now covered it, "He'll try, and I—I don't think I'll be able to tell him no."_

 _The admission broke Aaron's heart all over again._

 _"I'll make sure everything's put away," he vowed, and it was as much a promise to Reid as it was to himself, "I promise you, Spencer...I'm gonna take care of you. I'll take care of everything, and we'll get through this. I_ swear _it."_

 _He placed a kiss to Reid's sweaty forehead, trying his best to ignore the stench of blood as he breathed in the beautifully familiar scent that was purely his lover, then quickly opened his phone and dialed 911._

. 

Ice pooled in his veins as he came out of the memory and back into the present, terror piercing his chest, stealing his breath away. Reid's voice echoed in the back of his mind, itching at something buried deep within, etching itself onto his very soul...

. 

" _You, you n-need to put everything away, though. Um, someplace—someplace that I can't get to it. You can't let me get to anything, Aaron."_

. 

"Oh my god."

The words were out of his mouth before he'd even realized he'd spoken them.

Dreadful questions swirled in his mind.

Did he forget to lock the safe?

Did he even put his gun back _in_ the safe?

He'd opened it earlier that night, then taken the Glock out to clean it. The act was a simple and mindless one. It was a way for him to calm himself down; a way to get out of his head whenever the darker thoughts started to creep in, or when the exhaustion and despair were almost too heavy for him to carry. It was like therapy in a way, and the repetitive action of it always helped to ground him.

He was so tired, though...so very, very tired. He'd been up all night with Spencer, something that was happening on a regular basis now—and he couldn't for the life of him remember if he'd secured the weapon after he'd finished cleaning it.

Had he locked the safe?

The question was an utterly terrifying one, and the ramifications of whatever the answer was could be catastrophic.

The world, in all its agonizing fury, was crashing down on him from all sides and he couldn't speak, couldn't even move a muscle. But then the cold, cruel snap of reality broke through his temporary stupor and he was bolting toward the door, body shaking uncontrollably, legs threatening to give out.

"I'm sorry..." he mumbled, his voice trembling, "But I—I have to go..."

Spencer was very clearly a danger to himself—a danger to his own safety. He was seeing things that weren't there, hearing voices that were telling him to hurt himself. He was delusional. He was fucking suicidal for Christ's sake, and Aaron had just fucking left him alone!

He'd left him alone, quite possibly with a loaded gun.

Oh god.

What had he been thinking?

How the hell could he have been so fucking _stupid?!_

There was no telling what he was going to walk in on when he got home, he just knew that he needed to get there as fast as possible. He needed to know if his careless actions had just killed the love of his life.

Gritting his teeth, he exited the store without so much as a backwards glance toward the perky cashier, leaving his groceries unpaid for in his wake.

He had to get home.

He had to get to Reid.

He needed to know if Spencer was alright.

As he started the car, he prayed to every god he could think of that he wasn't already too late.

.

 _ **We saw brilliance when the world was asleep.  
There are things that we can have but can't keep.**_

.


	3. Stay

Chapter Three

Stay

.

 _ **The reminders pull the floor from your feet.  
In the kitchen, one more chair than you need.  
Oh.  
And you're angry, and you should be, it's not fair.  
Just 'cause you can't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there.**_

.

Aaron didn't know how fast he was driving, but at the very least he'd broken several traffic laws in his haste to get home as quickly as possible. If he still had sirens on his car, he was damn sure he would be using them right about now; but, as it was, he just prayed he wouldn't catch the attention of an over zealous cop. After all, there was no way in hell he would be pulling over given the current circumstances; there was too much at stake, and time was just too precious to even consider it.

His knuckles blanched under the relentless pressure as he sped down the road, gripping tightly to the steering wheel while images of Reid continually flashed through his mind, torturing him with their excruciating detail and sending him into a fit of near unbridled panic.

Pictures of Spencer lying in a pool of his own blood.

Still.

Unmoving.

Face pale and devoid of any signs of life.

Hair ruddy and matted against his forehead.

Body relaxed in some god awful perversion of a restful sleep.

Fuck, he never should have left Spencer alone to begin with!

What the fuck had he even been thinking?! That he was fucking _tired?_ That he needed a goddamn fucking _break?_ Was Spencer's life really worth so little to him that he would throw it all away for the chance at a few measly minutes of false peace?

The painful answer to that sobering question was an obvious yes.

Clearly Aaron had put his own selfish wants and desires high above the younger man's basic needs...above his well being...above his _life._ He'd just walked out the fucking front door and left Spencer behind to face all of his demons alone—left him to fight for his life in the quiet solitude of a broken home.

Aaron would never forgive himself for that.

Absolutely never.

He was done being selfish. There was nothing in the world he wanted more in that moment than to take care of Spencer for the rest of his life, and he no longer cared how hard it could potentially be to do so. Any thoughts he'd had of wanting space or a break had been swiftly and thoroughly swept away the instant he'd realized he may have left his gun out of the safe.

The instant he'd realized he may have made a fatal mistake—a mistake that could cause him to lose Spencer forever. Reid could very well be home alone right now, with a fucking loaded weapon and suicidal tendencies; and if anything happened to him because of that, it would be Aaron's fault.

It would _all_ be Aaron's fault.

That thought had Hotch pressing down harder on the accelerator, and when he finally pulled up to the apartment complex, he barely took the time to even put the car in park before jumping out and bolting toward the building. People stared at him with curious eyes as he ran through the lobby, but he paid them no mind. He didn't have the time. Everything was a whirl of blurring lights, bright colors and aggressive sounds that his mind tried to ignore; and before he knew it he was bursting through the door to their apartment.

The atmosphere inside was a stark contrast to the blaring lights of the outer hallway—dark and quiet, still and calm, heavy and somber. The moon filtered in through the window, blanketing the space in a soft white glow; and Spencer was there, sitting right in the middle of the living room floor, his body nothing more than a dark silhouette, wild wisps of hair masking most of his features. One hand was resting in his lap, and the other was clutching a newly cleaned and very familiar gun to his head, the steel of the barrel glinting off the moonlight.

"Oh my god..." Aaron's mouth went dry, sandpaper grinding inside his throat with every word, a tight band of fear clenching around his chest—squeezing his heart until he thought it might literally burst and kill him on the spot.

He couldn't move.

Couldn't breathe.

The sight before him was suffocating and terrifying and all encompassing.

Spencer looked up at the quiet utterance, hair softly parting to reveal his beautiful hazel eyes—eyes that were swirling with confusion and sorrow. "Aaron?" his voice was hollow as their eyes locked together, "You're...you're home. I, ah...I didn't expect you..."

"Baby, what are you doing?" he asked, slowly taking a step forward, hands reaching out to the man in front of him. Placating. Pleading. He had to fight back the urge to just run to him and take control of the situation, pull the gun from those slender fingers and get it as far away from Spencer's head as humanly possible, "Please, just...just put the gun down."

To Aaron's horror, Reid did the exact opposite, his grip tightening around the weapon as his hand began to shake.

"I...I can't do that."

"Yes, Spencer, you can." He took another step closer, "You _can_ do that. I know you can, baby. Come on. Please, all you have to do is give it to me."

"No." There was a resoluteness to Spencer's tone that sent a chill down Aaron's spine; and those confused eyes cleared and then hardened. "You know this is better, Aaron. I know it. You'll be better off without me. You all will."

His mind was racing through everything he'd been trained to say to someone who was suicidal, but in the present moment it was all he could do to stop himself from just lunging at Reid, pinning him to the ground and forcing the gun from his hands. But he knew that was probably the worst thing he could possibly do, for both of them. If he did that it could send Spencer into a full blown panic; or the weapon could accidentally discharge, hitting one of them in the process.

Or a multitude of other things could go wrong.

"No. Don't. Just—Just think about _Jack!"_ he blurted instead. He wasn't really thinking about what he was saying, he was merely grasping—desperation clear in the tremor of his voice, "Honey, think about what this will do to him. If you do this, he'll always believe he wasn't important enough to you to keep you here."

"No...don't you put that on me Aaron, because I _am_ thinking about Jack!" Spencer snapped back, jumping to his feet and moving closer, the gun now held at his side, "Can't you see that?! I have to do this before I hurt him! Before I hurt _you!"_ He started sobbing, the hand holding the Glock coming up to his face as he rubbed at his eyes, heatedly wiping the tears away. "I know I'm hard to be around, Aaron. God...I know you can't handle me anymore, and you—you don't need to be here for this," he implored, "Please, just leave. Just go."

"No," he adamantly shook his head, fists clenching so tight he could feel the nails digging into his palms, "Never. There's no way in hell I'm walking away right now. I'm not leaving you here alone. Not like this."

"Aaron," Reid cried, shaking, quickly losing the little composure he'd been desperately clinging to, "You, y-you don't get it. You don't—" His breath seemed to suddenly catch in his throat, halting his argument; and Hotch watched Reid's eyes flick over to the corner of the room as something akin to terror etched itself across his face. "No no no no no...I can't do that!" he screamed, begging and pleading, "I can't, I can't...don't make me do that! _Please,_ don't make me!"

Aaron's eyes followed Reid's to the other side of the room, to the empty space that held the younger man's attention, and a creeping sense of dread washed over him. He knew Reid was hallucinating. Someone was telling him to do something. Something bad—awful. It was Gideon, most likely.

"Spencer..." Hotch tried, but Reid vehemently shook his head, crying as he met Aaron's gaze. "Baby, don't look over there. Okay? Don't listen to him. Don't listen to _any_ of them." He took several steps closer until there was only a foot of space between the two of them. If he dared, he could reach out and touch the trembling body before him, but he didn't. "All they do is lie to you, Sweetheart. I promise. That's all they do, and that's all they are. Lies. They're not real."

Spencer looked so fragile, so small, so broken. The brilliant genius he loved was nowhere to be found in that moment; all that remained was an empty shell...an echo of the gorgeous man and beautiful mind Aaron had once known. His vision blurred as a multitude of tears flooded his eyes, and he silently prayed to all the gods in the universe that somehow he could bring the man he loved back from the brink of death...pull him out of the depths of the hell he'd fallen into—the insanity that gripped him...

.

 _Aaron knew he wasn't going to last much longer, not with the way Spencer was keening and writhing beneath him, tempting him to completion. The younger man was still riding through the last vestiges of his own climax—warm, sticky release sitting between them, coating both their heaving chest as Spencer's muscles pulled Aaron further inside his trembling body. Long legs wrapped securely around his waist, and he gave one final thrust of his hips before he was spilling himself deep within unfathomably tight heat. The cascading pleasure had him falling to his forearms, blanketing Reid as their lips met, and he cried out his ecstasy into the open, moaning mouth below._

 _Several minutes later, he was pulled from his post-coital bliss by Spencer's sweet voice, soft and breathy against his skin._

 _"I love you, Aaron."_

 _Slender fingers ran through his damp hair, blunt nails scratching gently over his scalp, and he leaned into the touch as he drank in the sight of his lover. Reid looked like an angel lying below him...long golden curls splayed wistfully across the pillow, glimmering hazel eyes fixed lovingly up at him, soft plump lips curving into the sweetest smile he'd ever seen._

 _He truly didn't know if Spencer had ever looked quite as stunning, and beautiful, and wondrous as he did in that perfect moment._

 _He couldn't take his eyes off him._

 _"I love you, too," he murmured, slowly lowering his head to take Spencer's mouth once more._

 _The kiss was soft and smooth, tongues leisurely gliding in and out of shared heat as the hand in his hair moved down to cup his cheek._

 _"Marry me," Reid sighed against the embrace, thumb tracing circles across his skin, and Aaron pulled away as the words filled his ears, making his heart beat just a little bit faster._

 _He didn't know if he'd heard correctly, and his brows furrowed, "What?"_

 _Spencer's eyes flicked back and forth across Aaron's face, examining the expression as he worried his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked nervous, yet somehow sure at the same time. Determined. "You heard me," he grinned, gently stroking his fingers across Aaron's brows, his cheeks, his lips, "I love you, and I never want to spend another day without you and Jack in my life. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be mine, and I want everyone to know it. I want them all to know that I'm yours, Aaron. Only yours."_

 _His heart leapt out of his chest at the declaration, and any hold on his emotions was completely forfeit as he stared down at the other man. "And I'm yours, My Love," he whispered, tears streaming down his face as he lost the battle to keep them at bay, "Always yours."_

 _Reid watched him expectantly, still waiting for an answer. "So...?" he prodded when no answer actually came._

 _"So..." Aaron let his joy overflow, and he beamed down at Spencer as he sighed, "Let's get married."_

 _"Really?"_

 _The surprise in Spencer's voice was palpable, and all Aaron could do was nod his head as his smile grew._

 _"Yeah? That's a yes?"_

 _"Yes!" he laughed, leaning down to meet their foreheads, "Yes...that's definitely a yes. Of course I wanna marry you."_

 _Reid's eyes brightened exponentially at that, sparkling hazel shining through tears of joy, and the squeal he let out was quite startling, yet absolutely adorable in equal measure._

 _Long arms wrapped around Aaron's neck, and before he knew what was happening their positions had flipped and he was lying on his back with Spencer above him, straddling his hips as the genius peppered butterfly kisses all along his jaw, his nose, his cheeks._

 _It was one of the happiest moments of his life._

.

Three months later, Reid had had his first hallucination; and Aaron could still remember the sheer terror he'd felt the instant Spencer had told him he was hearing voices. After that night, the decline in his mental health had been rapid and unrelenting, and they'd put the wedding preparations on hold at Spencer's request. He'd told Aaron to leave him, told him that he didn't want to be a burden to the people he loved; but Hotch had refused to abandon him. In Aaron's mind, it didn't matter if Spencer was sick. Whether they had a piece of paper to declare it or not, in his heart they were already married.

No illness was ever going to change that.

He was brought back into the horrifying reality of the present moment by Reid's strangled words drifting to his ears.

"Aaron, I'm...not well. I know that. Really, I do. I'm, I'm just like my mom now, and I always...I—I a-always told myself if I ever got sick like her I wouldn't live like that. I can't be like her. I can't—I just...I can't do this anymore!" He was getting more and more agitated by the second, the hand holding the gun flying recklessly around the room, pointing at shadows while his eyes tracked invisible monsters only he could see, "I mean, think about it! Who really cares if one more crazy person dies, Aaron?! The world would be _better!_ It would be _so much better!_ Don't you _see_ that? There's enough lights in the heavens without _me_ ; enough stars in the sky—stars that are beautiful and radiant and _whole._ They're not fucking _broken!_ They're gorgeous flickers of brilliance in a sea of massive darkness. Those stars? Aaron, those perfect, gorgeous stars light the way for everything else. Compared to all that...well, compared to something like that, I'm nothing. It's true, and we both know it. I'm—I'm nothing. I'm nothing, and I'm already gone."

"No. No, Spencer, you're wrong. You're not _nothing_ , and you're not _gone._ You're still right here. You're right here, right now, and I care—" his voice broke on the last word. His throat felt painfully tight, and his chest threatened to burst from the shards of agony that were shredding his insides to jagged bits, "Do you hear me? I care. _I_ fucking care if you're here, Spencer. _Jack_. Jack _cares!"_

Spencer looked down to his hands then, cradling the gun like it was something precious...something cherished and adored...something he treasured above all else. When he looked back up his expression was eerily calm, and his voice matched the sentiment much too perfectly. "This can happen in an instant. Quicker, even. I can go on my own terms. I have that chance right now. I can go before I just fade away, before I'm not _me_ anymore. I can die as Spencer Reid, if you'll just let me." He paused, a small, resigned smile dancing on his lips, "I really do think I'm already gone, Aaron. This is the logical next step."

"No," Hotch shook his head, voice strained, "No. Please, Spencer...don't go. Don't...don't do this to me..."

He reached out, fully intent on yanking that fucking gun from Reid's grasp by force; but Spencer was too quick, jerking out of his reach as the weapon flew back up to his head. Aaron thought the whole world ended right there, with that gut-wrenching action. He could see it in the haunted hazel eyes staring back at him—and his heart stopped.

Or, that's what it felt like.

It felt like _everything_ in his existence stopped, and he blurted out a desperate, "I'm sorry!" His hands rose up in surrender, shaking as he took a step back, a step away from Reid, then another, and another, trying to give the man space, to placate him, to calm him. "Please—Please, I'm so sorry. Just—just calm down. Just talk to me, okay? Just tell me what you _need_ , Sweetheart. _Please._ Don't do this. Just, please put the gun down and talk to me."

"I don't want you here," Spencer whispered, the Glock still sitting flush against his temple, "I, I want you to go, Aaron. I need you to go. God—" his whole body shivered, and he swallowed a sob before screaming out, "I _hate_ you! Do you hear that, Aaron?! I hate you! I hate you so much, so just go! _Just fucking go!"_

"No!" he yelled, clenching his jaw as he took a step back toward Reid.

It felt like they were playing some sick, brutal game of tug of war.

Of life and death.

He knew the younger man was distraught, and very clearly not in his right mind. Spencer didn't mean the things he'd said, he was just lashing out, trying to push Aaron away—trying to make him hate him. But it wasn't going to work.

Unfortunately, though, what Aaron was trying to do obviously wasn't working either. There was a time to be careful and soothing, of course, but that time was quickly passing them by. He was getting desperate, so if being gentle with Spencer wasn't going to work then he'd have to try something else. He'd have to try something new, take a different approach. He'd do anything—whatever he had to do—in order to get through to the man he loved.

He wouldn't give up on him.

He would never give up on him.

"No. No, you listen to me, now. You don't _get_ to do this," he growled, his stern and stoic demeanor falling over him like a well-worn cloak, like a protective shield, "I won't let you do it this way. If you wanna die...if you're really so set on killing yourself, then it's not gonna be done behind some closed door, away from everyone, out of sight. You're not gonna do it in _hiding_ , like a goddamn _coward._ If you really want this—if you really wanna _kill_ yourself—then you're gonna have to do it in front of me. And I swear to god, Spencer—" he choked back another scream of agony as bile rose up his throat, then he forced the harsh words out on the end of a sob, "I swear to god, if you make me watch you die I will _never_ fucking forgive you for it!"

Spencer just stood there staring at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape.

They both stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, their gazes fixed on one another, and Aaron was beginning to fear that Reid had actually gone catatonic; but then Spencer broke eye contact with him, his body trembling uncontrollably as he fell to his knees. Time seemed to slow then, and Aaron was down on the floor before he even knew he'd started to move, pulling Reid into his arms and taking the gun from slack fingers. He slid the weapon across the floor, far out of reach, and held tight to the shivering form pressing into him.

"I-I-I d-don't know wh-what to do anymore," Reid stuttered, burrowing his head into Aaron's chest, "I don't know...I don't kn-know, Aaron...I—I don't know anything anymore..."

"Shhh, it's gonna be okay now," he soothed, one hand running through a tangled mess of chestnut curls while the other hugged Spencer even closer, refusing to let go, "We'll figure it all out, I promise. Just breathe, baby. Just calm down for me and _breathe_."

"It's just—god, it's not fucking fair!" he cried, hands fisting into Aaron's shirt, clinging to him, the fabric soaking through with abundant tears, "I just want him to leave me alone! Why won't he leave me alone?! Why won't they all just _go away?!"_ Aaron's grip tightened as Spencer's body convulsed, "I...I don't wanna hear them anymore, Aaron. I just want it to be quiet...that's all. That's all I want..."

"I know, honey. God...I know you do." Seeing Spencer shattering— _feeling_ it as it happened—was almost too much for Aaron to bear. A part of him felt like joining Reid in utter hysteria, but he knew he couldn't let his emotions take over. Not yet. First he had to get the situation under control and calm Spencer down, before things escalated again. There would be time for him to break down later. "We'll find something that works for you, okay?" he started again, placing a kiss to Reid's sweaty temple, "We'll find a new drug trial, a new doctor—whatever we have to do, we'll do it. We're gonna make them all go away, baby. I promise." Spencer's sobs started to slowly die down then, morphing into a litany of weak whimpers and shuddered breaths as Aaron began to gently rock them together on the floor. "Shhhh, I've got you now," he murmured, "I've got you, and you're gonna be okay."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do." His arms squeezed a little tighter. "You'll be okay," he vowed, because he didn't think he could survive otherwise, "It's just gonna take some time to figure it all out."

"Don't—Don't leave me?" Spencer's voice was timid and small, barely audible against Aaron's chest, "Please, I—I'm so sorry. I didn't mean what I said. Really, I didn't. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I love you so much, and I can't—I can't do this...not without you, Aaron. I can't live like this without you. Please, please don't leave me..."

"Hey," he pulled back just enough to tilt Reid's chin up, meeting his watery gaze, "Never. I promise you, Spencer, I'm not going anywhere. I'll never leave you. I'm with you, always." Hazel eyes brightened minutely at that, and Aaron had to swallow down a lump of raw emotion threatening to erupt before he could continue, "But I need you to do something for me, too. I need you to promise me the same thing."

"Wh-What?"

"Promise me that you'll stay with me, Spencer. That's all I'm asking. Stay and fight this _with_ me. Don't go away, baby. Don't make me live in a world without you."

"Aaron..." Reid started to shake his head in protest, his face crumbling as more tears began to fall.

"No. Don't shake your head at me." He cradled Spencer's face in his hands, thumbs swiping gently at tear-streaked cheeks, "Just listen to me now. Are you listening?" he paused, and Reid gave him a jerky nod, "You have a _brilliant_ mind, and you being sick does nothing at all to change that. You're magnificent, and radiant, and beautifully complex...and absolutely gorgeous, just like those perfect stars you talked about. You take my breath away every single day. You're the most amazing person I've ever known, and this world needs you in it, Spencer. _I_ need you in it. I need you with me." Reid's eyes suddenly darted to a point over Aaron's shoulder, and he quickly moved to block the younger man's view of whatever it was he was seeing. He finally felt like he was making headway, getting through to Spencer's fractured mind, and he wasn't about to let a fucking hallucination derail his efforts. "Please, Spencer," he watched hazel hesitantly meet his gaze once more, and he gave the genius a small, tentative smile, "Stay here. Just stay with me."

"I want to," Reid rasped, "I do. I really do...it's just—it's _so_ hard, Aaron. Everything's so hard, but...I'll—I'll try...f-for you."

"No...for _us_ ," Aaron gently corrected, pulling Spencer back to his chest, "Try for us, Sweetheart."

They clung to each other in that moment, as the world crashed down around them; and his fingers once again found matted hair, combing through the strands as he closed his eyes and placed a long, lingering kiss to the top of Spencer's head.

There was going to be a tomorrow.

And more importantly, there was going to be a tomorrow with Spencer Reid in it.

He had hope for what felt like the first time in months, and Aaron clutched onto it like a lifeline as they rocked together on the moonlit floor.

"I've got you," he softly whispered, "I love you, Spencer, and I've got you...so please, honey...just stay."

.

 _ **Who cares if one more light goes out  
In the sky of a million stars?**_

 _ **Who cares when someone's time runs out  
If a moment is all we are?**_

 _ **Who cares if one more light goes out?**_

 _ **Well, I do.**_

.

 _ **\- Linkin Park, 'One More Light'**_

.

Fin

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End file.
